Skip to main content

If in the beginning...



If in the beginning was creation- the planets to mesmerize, the stars to gaze with wonder, the sun to breathe in time and hover Love’s most bright, then the moon, which hovers the night to light the way for man, has had eons of glory to begin its inward flutter, toward our silence, toward our joy, toward our laughter. Flutter...

For creation to remain, she must cleanse herself of man’s pathetic use and stave off our attempted murder.


(After the one truth sprang forth in its Milky Way swimming in Love’s DNA round and round, both began to grow down, down, down into Love’s thighs, down into the light turned water, into the dark turned sky.)

Are there more things for us to have known, for us to have imagined? Have we left anything soiled, defiled, that’s not to creation’s liking?

I pray you forgive me now, before your unbelievable wrath is summoned from the core of your sorrow. Shall we fair better after the deed is done or will we die from utter shock at seeing we were wrong? We received so much more of Love than we gave, or bargained for?

Eternal guide, lead me on that I may be near your bosom more, that I may hear the wondrous symphony calling across your canyon floors like a violin’s echo darting behind the dark. You fail Love, and you’ll part ways with her loving Love paired, her righteous skin producing such wondrous fares.

Her oceans wait for the next flood of death, the next mortal king to wave his crown and try to bring Love crashing down. To wash away our fear, we’ll need Love to explain how on eartH the sons and daughters of creation missed the truth for so long, how he crawled upon her, walked upon her, drove upon her, then flew above her majesty and spat upon her face.

See the coming misfortune, the fatal flaw in human nature? Pry the “s” out of insanity and you’ve want of the rest. Will we realize soon enough, we’re the cause of our own demise, as we’ve tried to strafe life from out of Love and Love from out of life?

Oh Love, help us, we’ve little left to offer, with abundance yet to be given. Keep your hands free of her spirit, now move yours away from the core, back away slowly, bend upon your knees and clasp your complicit paws together to realize you know nothing, you are nothing, that nothing of yours compares and that she implores you to breathe all remaining Love into creation’s heart forevermore?

This magnificent eartH in all of her glory, and at the center of it all, a clarinet whimpers her grief into the air, a tambourine jangles its painless joy over the water, spoons rattle their rigid clip above her eartHenware bowl… and a guitar string pounds out Love’s beat within this, the Mother’s and Grandmother’s and Great Grandmother's eternal note.

Yes! It is Love that’s arranging its song into a masterpiece. Like the wind and its song, the wolf and its air, the bird and its call, Love summons us to duty, prays we begin anew, bowed and broken, hauling Love up the mountain instead of death, carting her to her peak, to Love swimming deep and running out of air!

To speak, she ascends her surface to say, if you bring your brother to belief, you’ll bring the world.

(Swim, little minnow, break free from your looming death.)


© 2011 by mark prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

ROOT OF

"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." __1 Timothy 6:10 It is MONEY, not the LOVE of it that is the issue, the true problem. Love, in and of itself, is never a problem, WANT and NEED, or better yet- the WANT and the conundrum of its very REQUIREMENT for our survival IS the problem, it's creation and our blind use of it is logically the ROOT. In other words, let's leave LOVE out of it altogether and deal with the facts instead. If money were not made by us as a requirement for our survival, we'd find ourselves in a much better position to argue of its need and our want of it. MRP Peace and Love © 2015 Mark Richard Prime
Post a Comment
read the poem
........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...
Post a Comment
read the poem

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman
32 comments
read the poem